I'll Make It Up To You
by teh liz
Summary: [rent 100] Long live the red plaid pants. :]


**Prompt:** 084. He  
**Author's Notes:** If you think I own Rent, you need more help than I do.

April yawned, and looked at her watch. Her shift ended at five and it was only one-thirty… thirty-two. Thereabouts. Her eyes crossed and began to close whenever she focused on something for too long, so she tried to keep her eyes moving around. She'd already taken lunch, colored her nails with a permanent marker, and tried the same thing with her hair. Needless to say, it hadn't worked very well.

She sighed and gave the crossword in People another look. Her brain wasn't really up for any sort of thinking at the moment, but it was something to do. _14 across, Duran Duran hit, Hungry Like The ._

_Wolf, easy enough,_ she thought as she scribbled it in with a pen. Her attention was drawn away when the bell rang, indicating the front door had opened. Roger entered, and shot her a grin. She couldn't help but smile back, feeling her headache lessen a bit. He was so much faster than aspirin, and better in bed. "Get out, we don't serve your kind here," she said.

"Oh yeah, and what kind's that?" he asked, approaching the counter where she was.

"You smartass, rock and roll kids," she answered, leaning across the counter the counter to give him a kiss.

He accepted it gladly, holding on a little longer than she thought he might. "Well, maybe I'm not going to take it anymore. I didn't come here to be insulted."

"Where do you usually go?" she asked with a smirk.

"Speaking of being a smartass," he laughed, leaning on the counter. "What are you up to?"

"Crossword. Bored out of my mind," she said. "Bit of a headache, but I'll live."

"Take something for it?"

"Yes, mom, but the damn thing persists," she rolled her eyes, coming out from behind the counter. "I should be thankful for such a caring, interested boyfriend since I heard the opposite complaints so often, but I promise, I'm fine."

He followed her around as she straightened things on a rack, and took a pair of pants off a rack of t-shirts where someone had placed it after deciding they didn't want it. "If you're sure," he said, and lowered his voice a bit. "You just took a bad trip last night, is all, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," she promised, absently rearranging the shirts for size and rounding the corner. "As long as Mark didn't somehow manage to catch my fall from grace on camera, I seem to remember it being sort of embarrassing."

"You got very touchy-feely," Roger conceded.

"I don't seem to remember you minding, either," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, until you passed out and we all panicked because we thought you OD'd," he replied.

"Always the life of the party, that's me," she said, rehanging the pants she'd picked up earlier. "It's not that bad, I promise, I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, leaning easily on the rack of clothing. April took a second to marvel at his body – not even necessarily the physique, just the way he carried himself. He was completely comfortable, and his body language showed it. It was amazing.

"You, however, are terrible. Bothering me at work, my manager's going to throw a fit," she tsked.

"I'll make it up to you," he said.

"Make it up to me by keeping me up all night, you mean," she said.

"You've never complained before."

"Give me some business," she challenged.

"I'm not _paying_ you."

"I mean the store, you moron," she whacked him on the shoulder to wipe the smug grin off his face – not that he generally had any other sort of grin, he usually managed to look like he knew something April didn't.

"Say what you mean, April," he said innocently.

"I'm going to whack you again," she warned, wielding an empty hanger and then picked up the blouse that had fallen off.

"Oh no! Not the hanger!"

"You're mocking me," she said, faking a pout. "Fear me, for I know where you sleep."

"Oh yeah, I'm scared now," he scoffed.

She was about to answer "you should be," and then merely smirked. Roger raised an eyebrow in return, and then she dashed to the rack that held men's pats. "We just got these the other day. You _need_ these pants," she said, looking through the rack.

"Dare I ask?"

"You'll love them, I promise," she said, laughing. Well, he'd either hate them or love them and pretend to hate them. She pulled them off the rack and revealed her find.

"They're… plaid," he finally settled on.

"Yeah, they're pretty cool," she grinned happily. They were absolutely gorgeous in her opinion, she sort of wished _she_ were 6'3 so she could wear them. Red and white plaid with a touch of yellow, sticking out and maybe slightly head-turning, but beautiful.

"Yeah, if you want to cause a three car pileup in Times Square," he remarked dryly.

"Oh come on, I've worn worse," she held them out to him.

"They look small," he excused, backing up.

"They're thirty-six/thirty, which means they fit," she said, thrusting them into his arms and then turned him around and began pushing him to the curtained dressing room in the back of the store.

"You're not going to leave this alone, are you?" he sighed in defeat.

"Nope. Go ahead," she urged, giving him a final shove and pulling the curtain (a paisley bedsheet) closed.

"You need help, A," he sighed, and soon there were changing clothes sounds. Moments later, Roger announced from behind the curtain, "I'm not coming out, this is absolute bullshit."

"No, let me see," she begged.

"No," he said.

"Then I'm coming in," she giggled, throwing open the curtain and she gave a happy gasp. "_Roger._"

"If you want to laugh, you'll have to leave me to stroke my ego in peace," he said sullenly, tugging a little on the pants. "They're a bit tight."

"I think they're supposed to be like that. Oh _god,_ you look so…" She gesticulated as she looked for the word.

"Stupid?"

"I want to jump you," she said, and then gave a small squeal before literally jumping at him. He was a bit surprised but did his best to catch her. It didn't go half as well they thought, as Roger ended up falling to the floor with April on top of him. She banged her elbow into the wall and he had fallen on his butt, but they were both laughing so hard none of that seemed to matter. "I'm sorry," she giggled.

"Well, if I'd known _that_ was going to happen, I would haven gotten a pair a lot sooner," he said, giving her a kiss on the top of her head and then lowering his head to give her a thorough kiss on the mouth.


End file.
